


Mistaken Intentions

by pookiestheone



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:01:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pookiestheone/pseuds/pookiestheone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"  Quoted in <i>As You Like It</i>, the line is from Philip Marlowe's poem "Hero and Leander"</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thomas was hungry. He knew that everyone was still reeling from Matthew Crawley's death and that things were in disarray, but still ... _You'd think someone would remember that I'd like to eat._ He glanced at his clock. Almost ten thirty and no one had brought him his breakfast. _I guess I'll have to try to get something myself._ He was feeling sorry for himself. _No one else seems to so why not?_ He sat up straighter and swiveled, trying to get his legs out of the bed. The effort made him grunt in pain and inhale sharply, which in turn made him cough. _Aagghh, I'm sure I've cracked a rib or two. That quack will have missed that._ He waited for a moment before finally pushing himself to his feet and beginning to hobble toward the dresser. _Jesus. Maybe I should ask Bates if I can borrow his cane. No, I'm already in his debt._ He still didn't like Bates no matter what he had done for him. _Holier-than-thou bastard. Don't know what Anna sees in him._

He looked in the mirror. _Now, who's that handsome devil? No wonder Jimmy took pity on me and agreed to become my friend._ He thought about that conversation. _Am I still so desperate to be near him that I'll grovel? Settle for scraps if I can't have the meal?_ He started to laugh, but a sharp punch of pain cut it short. _Of course I am. Sorry bastard._ Groaning, he struggled out of his undershirt and dropped his pyjama bottoms, stepping out of them and leaving them on the floor. _I'm not going to try to pick those up._ He found clean underwear and set them on the top of the dresser. _Now, how the hell am I going to get into these without falling over._ He was still staring at them when the door swung open. Without thinking he turned to face it, losing his balance and banging his injured ribs on the side of the dresser.

"Sorry this is late Mr. Barrow .... Oh."

The pain brought tears to his eyes, but he managed to grunt out between gasps

"Wh... Who the hell are you? Where's Jimmy?"

"I'm Simon, the new hall boy. I don't know where Mr. Kent is. Mrs. Patmore almost took my head off because no one had brought you your breakfast. Wasn't my fault. I didn't know. No one told me to do it. I ...."

"Okay, okay. I don't need a blow by blow of your morning. Set it down and get out."

Simon walked past him to the desk.

"Are you sure, Mr. Barrow? You look like you need some help."

Thomas looked down. _Oh, for Christ's sake._ He grabbed his pants and, forgetting that he shouldn't, he bent down to put them on. Too late he realised his mistake and was about to land on the floor head first when Simon wrapped his arms around him from behind and pulled him upright.

"Jesus! My ribs. Watch what you're doing."

"Do you want me to let you go?"

_Hmm, perhaps not a good idea._ "No. Just move your bloody arms higher." _Right, act like an asshole._ "Please." He waited for a few seconds to regain his balance, holding onto the dresser to steady himself. "You can let go now."

As Simon dropped his arms his cuffs grazed Thomas's nipples sending an enticing shiver up and down his spine. _Really? I feel like I'm on my last legs and yet ... Maybe that's a good sign._

"You're still not wearing anything, you know."

"Apparently I can't bend over."

"Give them to me." Simon grabbed the pants as he moved to face Thomas, then knelt in front of him. "Just step into them."

Thomas placed his hands on Simon's shoulders and obeyed. As Simon pulled the pants up, the waistband momentarily caught his cock, pushing it up and out toward his face.

"Uh ... What's going on?"

Thomas, pants half way up - or down, depending on your perspective - his hips, looked up to see Jimmy standing in the doorway.

"I needed some help."

"So I see." Jimmy glared at Simon. "You can go now. I'll take it from here."

"Yes, Mr. Kent." Simon rose and quickly side-stepped Jimmy to get out the door.

"Thanks, Simon," Thomas called after him.

Jimmy looked at Thomas, shaking his head.

"A bit young for you, isn't he?"

"What? Surely you don't think...."

"I know what I saw. A few seconds later and I would have had to pull you off him."

"Right. It's my fault. You're a fucking idiot, Jimmy. I can hardly stand and yet you think I'm ready to bugger anything on two legs."

"Oh, I think you have some boundaries. It would have to be male."

Thomas winced as his snort of laughter rattled his side.

"You don't think much of me, do you?" He turned and shuffled back to his bed. "Besides, what's it to you? It wasn't your prim and proper mouth about to do me the favour." _Not bloody likely._ "Do you want to know what it feels like? Is that it? Having your cock ..."

"Stop it, Thomas! That's enough."

Jimmy was blushing, but Thomas couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger or ....

"Fine. Just leave me alone." He cast a glance at the dresser. _Damn. I need my undershirt._

As if he knew what he was thinking, Jimmy picked the shirt from the dresser and brought it to him.

"You can't sit like that. Raise you arms above your head." He dropped the shirt over them and pulled it down at the sides. "And you need to eat. Do you want that," pointing to the tray of now-cold breakfast, "or do you want me to see if I can get Daisy to make you a sandwich on the sly."

"I don't much care right now," Thomas snapped. Jimmy had hurt him, but he wasn't going let him know.

"I'll get you something." He picked up the tray and was headed out the door when he turned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just assumed that you ..."

"No, you shouldn't have."

As Jimmy closed the door behind him, he had to lean against the jamb to stop his legs from shaking. _Jesus fucking Christ, I'm jealous!_

  



	2. Chapter 2

_What the hell was that all about?_ Thomas settled back into his bed, leaning against the headboard. _Does he really think I would try something with Simon? He can't be more than fifteen. You'd think Jimmy would give me credit for having some self-control. Or does he really believe that's the way men like me are. Of course, I didn't have much self-control when I kissed him and maybe he thinks... I'll just have to talk to him about it. He's my friend, right? Friends can talk about these things. But maybe we're not good enough friends yet. I'll start small. I'll try to apologise for the kiss. Although you'd think that getting beat up for him would be enough of an apology. Shit! This is giving me a headache. And I'm still hungry. Where is he with that sandwich?_

_What the hell was that all about?_ Simon almost ran down the stairs toward the servants' hall. _I was just doing what I was told to. Deliver his breakfast. Although the thing with his pants wasn't something I bargained for. Still, there was no reason for Mr. Kent to act like that. It was his voice; I know it only too well. it sounded like my father's just before he was going to hit me. I was only trying to help. I hate this place and I thought helping him out would make me feel better. Maybe make a friend. Although I doubt Mr. Barrow would ever want to be friends with the likes of me. Instead Mr. Kent made me feel like I did something wrong. I didn't. I don't think I did. Fine. I'll just tell Mrs. Patmore I'm never going near Mr. Barrow again. Can I do that? Probably not. Shit! I work for every one of them. Patmore, Kent, Barrow, Hughes, Carson and I don't get a say in anything. I hate this place._

_What the hell was that all about?_ Jimmy pushed himself away from the door jamb and started down the hall. _I can't be jealous. And even if I were, how could I be jealous of that little creep. To be fair, he's not a creep; he's just a stupid hall boy. Besides, there's nothing to be jealous about. Thomas is my friend. Nothing more. Although I'm not really sure why I agreed to that. I really don't need a friend. Never have. I just wanted to show I'm grateful that he was the one who got the shit kicked out of him and not me. He looks like crap. I never saw those bruises before. Of course I couldn't have, could I. He's always had his undershirt on ... and his pyjama bottoms. Still I didn't like Simon touching him like that. I'm sure he was staring at his cock. Was Thomas enjoying that? I'm sure he was, the randy bugger. No, that's not right. I really have to believe him. He has no reason to lie. Does he? I'm not jealous, just concerned for a sick friend who was being tempted by a conniving little shit._

Jimmy met Simon in the hall as he came out of the kitchen.

"Wait here."

"But I've got to ..."

"I said wait here."

"Yes, Mr. Kent"

Jimmy continued into the kitchen where he set the breakfast tray down on the counter. Daisy looked over from the stove.

"He didn't eat it?"

"It got cold. Simon didn't get it there fast enough. Can you maybe make him a quick sandwich and a cup of tea? I'll take it up myself. Better not to leave these things to hall boys, you know."

"Alright. But don't pick on Simon. He's new and he has to learn."

"Yeah. Sure. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He returned to the hall and motioned for Simon to follow him to a quiet corner.

"Mr. Kent, I really have to go."

"What were you doing in Mr. Barrow's room?"

"I took him his breakfast. Everyone forgot about him."

Jimmy winced at that because he was the one who forgot.

"And that was all?"

"Yes." Simon forehead wrinkled as he tried to think what else there could have been. "Except he needed help to get dressed."

"And you felt it was your place to do that?"

"I didn't know I wasn't supposed to." He paused. "Why wasn't I supposed to? It seemed the right thing to do and there was no one else around to help."

"Did he say anything to you or do anything?"

Simon looked puzzled.

"No. I don't think ... Wait, yes he did."

Simon cringed against the wall as Jimmy grabbed him by the shoulder, digging his fingers deep into the muscle.

"What? Don't lie to me or you'll regret it."

"Don't. That hurts." He could feel the tears stinging his eyes. "He thanked me. That's all. You heard him."

"You expect me to believe that's all he said the whole time you were there."

"No, there were other things I guess, but that's all I remember." _That's all that matters._ "Let me go." He kicked Jimmy in the shin.

"Why, you little shi..."

"James. Why are you keeping Simon from his work?"

Jimmy released him and spun around to face Mrs. Hughes.

"We were just having a little talk. I was trying to give him some helpful hints."

"You appear to have an odd way of doing that." She nodded to Simon. "Off you go."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

She watched Simon hurry down the hall before speaking to Jimmy again.

"You leave that boy alone. I watched Thomas torment William Mason for too long and I will not have a repeat of that. You are aware that Mr. Carson listens closely to what I have to say about staff."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

"Good. Then that's the end of it."

Daisy poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Jimmy, can I see you for a minute?"

"Go see what she wants. And remember what I said."

Jimmy was still upset when he walked into the kitchen. _He bloody kicked me in the shin. Mind you, that took guts. I never would have done that as a hall boy._

"Here's the sandwich. The tea's ready too. Now get out of here before Mrs. Patmore shows up."

"Thank you, Daisy. You're my favourite you know."

"Oh, I'll have to write that down in my diary. Shoo."

As he climbed the stairs to the men's quarters he tried to understand why he had treated Simon so badly. _That's not like me. He really is only a boy and he wouldn't have tried anything like that. I'm not being realistic._ Jimmy like to think he was level-headed, but something about today had him thoroughly confused. _It's just that I didn't expect to find Thomas half-naked with someone kneeling in front of him. That would bewilder anyone._ He stopped in front of Thomas's door to comb his fingers through his hair, adjusting the front wave.

"That took you long enough."

"Sorry, I got pulled aside. You know how these things are."

Jimmy handed him the sandwich and went around the bed to set the tea on his nightstand.

"Are you comfortable? Do you want me to fix that pillow?" He reached down and pulled it up slightly, one hand brushing against Thomas's ear.

Thomas stopped mid-bite to look up at him.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"Nice to see you smiling again." _Better than that scowl you gave me earlier._

"It must be the company."

Thomas watched the pink creep into Jimmy's cheeks.

"I've got to go before Mr. Carson lumbers up those stairs looking for me."

"We wouldn't want that. Thank Daisy for the sandwich. Hits the spot."

Jimmy hesitated.

"Why don't I come back later tonight before I go to bed. Maybe we can talk."

"That would be nice, I get bored with no one around. Besides I'd like to hear about what's going on."

"Good. I'll see you then."

After Jimmy left, Thomas considered what had happened as he finished his meal. The most time Jimmy had spent with him was what seemed like only a few minutes during the day. Of course, they had only been friends for a few days so maybe he hadn't had the chance for anything else what with all the upheaval of Matthew Crawley's death. Still, something about Jimmy seemed to have changed. That outburst earlier passed quickly but whatever was behind it wasn't over.

  



	3. Chapter 3

After he finished his tea, Thomas had dozed off while still sitting up. He woke with a jerk when his head fell back and banged against the wall. Grimacing, he reached back and rubbed the spot where it had hit. _Jesus. That hurt._ He sniffed, then turned his head and sniffed again. _God, I smell. I wonder if I can make it to the bathroom. Middle of the day, no one should be there._ He worked his way over to the edge of the bed and stood up carefully. _That was better than the last time. Still hurts though._ It seemed to take him ages to collect his towel and soap, but he eventually made it into the hallway. Supporting himself against the wall, he moved toward the bathroom. _Not bad. Still walking like an old man, but not bad at all._ Then his toe caught the edge of a raised floor board, dropping him forward onto his knees.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Mr. Barrow. What are you doing down there?"

Thomas looked up to see Simon standing over him, a look of concern on his face.

"Ah, Simon. We meet again. I didn't have anything else to do so I thought I'd inspect the hallway floorboards?

Simon's eyebrows shot up.

"You what?"

"I was trying to get to the bathroom so I could clean up."

"Most people walk there."

"What?"

Thomas saw Simon's face flood with red.

"S... S... Sorry. I have no idea why I said that."

"I'll ignore it if you'll help me up."

"Sorry. I should have done that right away."

"Stop saying sorry and help, you blathering fool." Despite himself Thomas was laughing.

Simon stood beside him as he extended his arm. Between the two of them, they got him to his feet.

"You're heavier than I remember."

"What?"

_Shit, no. Not again! Please, please don't let him say anything._

"I'll help you to the bathroom if you like."

"If you think you can manage the weight."

Simon was sure the heat from his face was going to burn Thomas. He was going to say something but decided that considering his success with recent efforts at conversation that wasn't a good idea. As they made their way down the hall Thomas's quiet laugh made things even worse. _Damn. I just want to get him there, then go hide somewhere._ He breathed a sigh of relief when he pushed open the door and was able to let go of Thomas's arm so he could back out.

"Wait."

_Why me? Why me?_

"Yes, Mr. Barrow."

"I don't think I can do this myself. The side of tub is too high for me to step over. Can you run the water and then help me get in?"

"Really, I have to go. I only came up to get a clean shirt after the slop pail splashed back when I was emptying it. Besides if I don't go someone will have my guts for garters because I haven't finished my work."

"Well you can't leave me here. And besides if anyone says anything, send them to me. I _**am**_ under butler after all and I can demand for something to take priority no matter whatever else you're supposed to do." Thomas paused. Simon's face had changed so that he almost looked frightened. _That's not the right way._ "What I mean is that I can ask you to do something and no one will have a problem with it."

Simon nodded. He came back into the bathroom and turned on the taps, checking the temperature with his hand.

"Thank you. It's doesn't have to be full, just enough so I can get me bollocks wet."

Simon giggled, hoping he wasn't blushing again. _Why does he do that to me?_

As they waited for the tub, Thomas eased himself out of his underclothes, just letting them drop at his feet. Without thinking Simon bent down and picked them up, folding them and setting them on the small bench in the corner.

"How do you find working here? Is service everything you expected?"

"Not quite," Simon mumbled. _This is the first time anyone has asked me anything._ He cleared his throat. "Guess I'm a bit homesick. And I don't really like my roommate. He reminds me of my brother. And he snores." _What am I doing? He doesn't want to hear that. Keep your mouth shut._

Thomas smiled at him.

"It'll get easier, you know. It's a big change and you get scared, afraid you'll make a mess of everything. But eventually you learn and then you move up from a hall boy to a footman and then ... Well, that's up to you." Thomas paused, not sure if he should continue, but he pressed on anyway. "And the loneliness will go away." _If you're lucky and not like me, that is._ You'll make friends. Maybe even find someone." _Okay, stop right there._ "As far as your roommate, you could always smother him with a pillow."

Simon's broke into a big grin.

"I guess that's one solution." He looked at the tub. "I think that's enough. Give me your arm." He held Thomas steady as he stepped into the tub and then held him under the arms as he slid his backside down the bottom end of it to settle into the water."

"I forgot the soap."

Simon reached it to him, then stood at the front of the tub.

"So you made friends, then?"

Thomas nodded. _No use telling him about O'Brien. No use telling him about anyone. Definitely not Jimmy._

"But you haven't found anyone?" Simon wished he could take back the words as he saw Thomas's expression cloud. "That wasn't my place to ask."

"No it wasn't. But it was a fair question considering what I said."

Simon noticed that he didn't answer it though.

Thomas took the flannel and carefully reached around to try to wash his back.

"Perhaps you should go change your shirt and then come back and help me get out."

"Yes, Mr. Barrow."

Simon began unbuttoning his shirt and had it off and slung over his shoulder as left the room. He ran right into Jimmy, knocking him back against the opposite wall.

"Simon, what on earth ..."

Before Simon could answer, Thomas called him.

"Simon, come back. I'm going to need help to finish this. It's hard now."

Simon watched Jimmy's eyes flit between his shirt, his bare chest, the door to the bathroom and then back to him, taking in the blush that seemed to have spread everywhere. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, making him look for all the world like a fish that had been pulled from the water.

"I ... I ...," Simon stuttered.

Jimmy just held up his hand and shook his head then started to walk away. He had only gone a few paces when Thomas spoke again.

"Simon? Don't leave me like this. I need you."

_Oh sweet Mother of God._

  



	4. Chapter 4

Jimmy spun on his heel and stood for a moment glaring at Simon.

"What's wrong?" His mind quickly ran through what had happened. "I was only helping again."

"I'm sure you were. Always ready to give a helping hand. I know Thomas has told you how much he appreciates that already."

Simon frowned.

"He hasn't said anything."

"No? How rude of him."

As Jimmy moved forward Simon took a step back, but not fast enough. He was off balance when Jimmy grabbed him by the shoulder and propelled him through the door of the bathroom, landing him roughly on the floor where he slid a short distance before hitting his head on the tub.

"Jesus Christ, Simon." Thomas tried to raise himself from the tub. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, he's just fine."

Thomas jumped at the sound of Jimmy's voice so close to his ear.

"Jimmy. Did you do that?"

"Why? Afraid I hurt your little bum boy?"

Simon shook his head, hoping it would somehow focus his eyes. _Bum boy? What?_

"Are you crazy? He's nothing of the sort."

"No? What was he going to help you finish then?" Before he realised what he was doing, Jimmy reached down into the tub and roughly grabbed Thomas's cock. "Oh, such a shame. You seem to have finished all by yourself. You really are disgusting, you know that?"

"Yeowww. Let go you fucking dolt. I wanted him to help me finish washing my back. It's too hard to reach by myself."

Thomas held up the flannel and soap, thinking that would help explain. Jimmy looked at them and released his grip, standing up straight.

"A likely story."

Jimmy was so intent on Thomas that he hadn't seen Simon get to his feet. All he heard was a growl before finding himself on the floor, head and shoulders out of the bathroom. Before he could recover from having the wind knocked out of him, Simon was on top of him, fists flailing. The first blow caught him under the eye and the next on the chin, knocking his head to the side, dazing him. The third landed on his chin again, but this time on the other side.

"Simon! SIMON!' Stop."

Thomas's plea brought him to his senses and he climbed off Jimmy, staring down at him as he lay groaning. This time his kick caught Jimmy square between the legs, forcing him into a moaning ball. He backed away, ending up beside Thomas.

"I'm nobody's bum boy." _I'm not really sure what that means but I can guess._ "Mr Barrow is the only person who has been nice to me since I got to this fucking place." Now he had to struggle to speak through his tears. "And you've spoiled that. Did you know the other hall boys call you 'the pretty one?' They're wrong. You have an ugly heart that makes you hurt people for no reason."

Thomas reached out of the tub and gently put his hand on Simon's forearm.

"Don't you think that's enough?"

Simon shook his hand away, but continued to sob.

"I'm going to go pack."

"You'll do nothing of the sort."

"I can't stay. Mr. Kent ..."

"Mr. Kent was clumsy. He slipped when he came in to see how I was doing and hit his chin on the rim of the tub, then his cheekbone on the way to the floor."

"But I kicked him in the ..."

"Oh I don't think Mr. Kent will want it known that he was bested by a hall boy nor that he was stupid enough to let him kick him in the bollocks. It's surprising how rumours like that get started. Right, Jimmy?"

"Mmmph."

"I'll take that as a yes. Now you go back to work. Jimmy will help me get out and back to my room." He looked over at Jimmy who was now sitting up, leaning against the door frame cradling his crotch. "Then again, I might have to help him. We'll make a fine pair as we hobble down the hall. Go."

Simon warily skirted Jimmy as he left the room.

"OK, care to explain just what that was all about."

"No." _I don't know. Or maybe I'm afraid I do._

"Have you come to your senses?"

"Yeah. Pain can have a way of doing that." _Pain and embarrassment._

"You leave Simon alone." Thomas didn't make that a request and Jimmy realised that as much as he feared Mrs. Hughes's wrath he should probably fear Thomas's more.

"This water's cold. Think you can help me out without grabbing my cock again?"

Jimmy struggled to his feet, grunting with each movement. _Oh God. I'll never live that down. Whatever possessed me? That was the last thing I should have done. I never planned on touching him at all, let alone like that. Jesus I grabbed his cock! And I thought the kiss was shocking; it pales in comparison._ He helped Thomas to his feet, keeping his eyes averted as best he could, and supported him as he stepped out onto the floor. He handed him the towel so he could dry himself, but turned so he couldn't see. A groan of pain made him turn around. Thomas was facing away, trying to dry his back.

"Here. Give me that."

Thomas surrendered the towel and Jimmy gently rubbed his shoulders.

"You're an odd one, Jimmy. That's twice today you've flown off the handle for no reason. Is there something wrong?"

"Simon just seems to bring out the worst in me."

"Well I suggest you get over it. You're a grown man and he's only a boy. Can't you control yourself?"

"Apparently not."

"Are you jealous?" _A stupid question. Why would he be jealous?_

"What? No, absolutely not?"

"Were you worried for Simon? _Why would he be angry with him then?_ Because each time it's been about something you thought I was doing with him. I would never touch him. You have to believe me."

"I do."

By now Jimmy had finished his back and arms and had reached the top of his hips. _I should stop._ He wiped the towel in small circles along the curve of his buttocks to the back of his thighs. Thomas spread his legs. Jimmy understood the invitation. _I really should stop._ He bunched the towel in his fist and slid it up so he could properly dry the area between them. The towel grazed his balls, eliciting a quiet sound from deep in Thomas's throat. He paused before running it down each side of his inner thighs to his ankles and then back up the outside to his hips.

Thomas reached back and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around his waist.

"Uh... I think that's good. I can manage the rest when I get back to my room."

Thomas walked over to pick up his underwear. When he turned, they were clutched in front of him. His voice was quiet, almost shy.

"Will you help me back to my room or do you want to get someone else?"

"No. I'll do it."

As they passed the mirror on the way out, Thomas stopped.

"I need a shave, but I'm too tired to even think of that now."

Finally back in his room Thomas turned away from Jimmy and dropped the towel. He was able to struggle into his undershirt despite the pain it caused - this time Jimmy didn't offer to help - but he just held his pants and looked at them. _I can't. I'll have to ask him. Shit._ He thrust them out behind him.

"Do you think you could help me with these?"

"Maybe your pyjama bottoms might be better?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll still need help."

Jimmy walked up behind him.

"You got clean ones?"

"Yes. Second drawer of the dresser."

Jimmy opened the drawer and pulled out a pair. He knelt behind Thomas and leant forward slightly. His nose almost touched the cleft of his buttocks and his eyes lost focus. _This isn't going to work at all._

"I think you'll have to turn around." He watched as the muscles in Thomas's back rippled. "I mean you can't get into them without holding onto something. And if you try to step into them backwards you'll almost sit on my face." _What did I just say?_ He could feel his hands start to sweat and his face flush.

"Alright." Thomas's voice was so low that Jimmy hardly heard it.

If Jimmy thought that staring at Thomas's ass was a problem, he hadn't considered the alternative. When Thomas turned he stumbled forward and Jimmy put up his hands to grab his hips to steady him. Despite that, the swing of Thomas's cock brushed his lips. Above him he heard Thomas's quick gasp. _This is all wrong._ Still, he took a few seconds to look, even though he had sworn to himself he wouldn't. He licked his lips, then quickly dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Okay. Same way as you did with Simon." _Oh my god._ "Erh ... You know what I mean."

Thomas grabbed his shoulders and lifted each foot in turn so Jimmy could slip the pyjamas over them. Finally Jimmy pulled them up high enough so he could reach the waistband himself. As he did, their fingers touched. Jimmy stood up, but his eyes followed Thomas's hand as he stuffed himself back through the gaping fly before doing up the button. The fabric was so thin it hid little. Jimmy looked away.

"I have to go." The quake in his voice surprised him. "Mr. Carson is letting us take it easy this afternoon so we're not very busy, what with the house in mourning, but there are supposed to be some callers tonight. I still want to come back later though." He looked down at his feet. "That is if you'll let me after the ass I've made of myself."

"Oh I think friends make allowances for asses." _Right. That didn't come out the way I meant._

When Jimmy looked up a faint smile was playing at his lips.

"I'll see you later then. And I'll have a surprise."

"Don't you think we've had enough surprises for one day?"

"You'll like this one. Just wait."

Once outside in the hall, Jimmy, as he had earlier, leaned against the door jamb to steady himself. _This can't be happening. He knows I can't give him what he wants. I already told him that. But he isn't asking for it. Just like he said he wouldn't. Things can't change that fast. Not in less than a week. Not when I haven't thought about anything like this. Not in a long time. I really don't understand. Women have never meant anything to me - that has never bothered me though, I just don't care - but neither have men. There was Jason when we were hall boys - I was about the same age as Simon I guess - but that's all it was. Boys playing. It felt good and I think Jason wanted more, but I couldn't. It didn't seem right. Maybe he just wasn't the right one._

That thought came from nowhere, but brought with it possibilities that panicked him. _Oh God. What if I haven't been mad at Thomas all this time? What if what I couldn't face was the fact that ... No, I'm not. I can't._

He closed his eyes, but instead of darkness he saw Thomas's ass. His eyes flew open. _This is all Simon's fault._ He knew how irrational that sounded, but he didn't care. It suited him to have someone else to blame. That way he wouldn't have to look for any other reason, even though he knew it was sitting there like a box - _Pandora's box?_ \- just waiting to be opened

  



	5. Chapter 5

Jimmy spent the rest of the afternoon trying to avoid Mr. Carson. Last time he had checked in a mirror faint bruises were starting to show where Simon had hit him  _it fucking still hurts a bit to walk, the little bugger_  but at least there were no cuts. Finally though, he had to go to the servant's hall for his dinner. He slid into the chair where Alfred normally sat, knowing that Alfred would take his seat. As first footman, he should be closer to Mr. Carson, but that was definitely not a good idea tonight.

Alfred gave him a questioning look when he came in, but settled beside him as he had hoped. _Lean forward you big oaf and keep it that way._

"Jimmy, what did you do to your face?"

_Can you say it any louder?_

Everyone turned to look at him, just as Mr. Carson entered the room. No one really noticed him until he cleared his throat which brought them all to their feet.

_Good. Just the distraction I needed._

Mr. Carson sat and they all followed suit. He glanced down the table.

"What's this about James's face?"

_Why did I even try to hide? He was going to see me tonight anyway._

"He's got bruises under his eye and on his chin."

_Thank you, Alfred._

Mr. Carson squinted at Jimmy and then scowled.

"Is that so. Would you care to enlighten me as to the cause, James?"

"Well, you see ..." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Simon tense.

"James, if you don't tell me I can't 'see', can I?

"I fell in the bathroom when I was helping Mr. Barrow and, well, it was slippery and the tub ..."

He stopped because he realised Mr. Carson was staring at him, mouthing something that he hadn't managed to get into words.

"You were helping Mr. Barrow? In the bathroom? For what reason?"

_To help him learn how to fly a broom. Why else._

"He wanted a bath."

"Yes, I know that. But why were you helping him? After ..." Mr. Carson stopped, realising what he almost said.

"He couldn't do it himself, could he? You try climbing into a tub after getting beat up like that."

"James, there is no need to be impertinent. I'm warning you that ..."

"Now, Mr. Carson, I'm sure James didn't mean it to sound that way," Mrs. Hughes interrupted. "And I know you'll agree it shows that he is concerned for Mr. Barrow's welfare. I think he should be commended. We all should be as kind."

Mr. Carson took the hint.

"Yes, you're correct of course. We will leave it at that." _But I will want to know why you were lollygagging around and not working. And with Thomas? Perhaps I don't want to know that part at all._ "But I also hope that your battered appearance doesn't lead to comments tonight."

_Really? I might as well be a pillar to these people. I doubt they'll notice. Even if they do their toffee-nosed manners won't let them say anything._

The rest of the dinner went smoothly until he and Alfred were leaving the hall to go upstairs.

"Were you really in the bathroom with Mr. Barrow? You actually saw him without any clothes?"

"No, Alfred, he got into the tub fully dressed. Of course he was naked. _And I grabbed his cock._ What's the big deal? There's no lock on that door and you barged in on me last week."

"Yes, but that's different. This is Mr. Barrow. Weren't you afraid he might try something. I would be."

"Oh Alfred, grow up. I finally have. First, he can hardly move. And second, I don't think you would have anything to fear."

"What?"

"Forget it, we better get upstairs. People will start arriving shortly."

Later that night Jimmy realised that he was paying for the easy time he had all afternoon. The few callers he had told Thomas about were, in fact, almost twenty and they were there for a full dinner. The dining room table had been extended and extra chairs brought in to accommodate them all. They began arriving around seven-thirty and by nine-thirty they had moved on to the saloon which meant that Jimmy and Alfred had to hover, making sure glasses were full as needed. The men seemed like their only interest was depleting Lord Grantham's liquor stores. The atmosphere was sombre given the circumstances, but that didn't keep them from talking.

He thought it a bit odd that Isobel Crawley had come since Matthew Crawley had only been buried the day or so before, but he realised that this wasn't just about the loss of Lady Mary's husband and the Grantham's son-in-law. For at least one person in the room it was a worse heartbreak, if that were possible, and she had every right to be there. _She's a tough old bird, but maybe she just can't face sitting in that house, realising she'll never see him again. The Granthams and Lady Mary have each other; she has no one but them._ Every now and then, someone would speak to her, but she merely nodded as if she really didn't know they were there. _Clarkson's given her something. Lord, I wish he would give me something. These people are tiresome._ He saw Lady Grantham sit down beside her and take her hand, before whispering something. _I don't know. It still seems cruel. I don't remember it being like this for Lady Sybil. All these people so soon, most she hardly knows or cares about. When my Mum died, we ... I .... Maybe I didn't do it right._

"James, pay attention. Alfred needs help with checking on the guests' drinks."

"Sorry, Mr. Carson. It's just Mrs. Crawley ..."

"Mr. Carson looked at him. _That's a surprise. He's always seemed too conceited to think of anyone but himself. First Thomas today and now this._

"Yes, it is a tragedy. But, and I don't mean to sound callous, there is nothing we can do except share her grief. Hers and that of the rest of the family. Now please go and help Alfred."

About an hour later, Jimmy whispered to Alfred.

"I really need to go. Can you cover for me for five minutes."

"Go? Go where?"

"Are you dense? I need to take a piss. Surprised you can hold it this long. Never mind. Will you cover or not?"

"Yes, but don't be too long. You know what Mr. Carson can be like if he thinks you're shirking."

"I think he'd prefer this than to catch me watering that fern."

Jimmy hurried out of the saloon and down the servants' stairs. He didn't have time to go all the way up to the men's toilet in the attic so he would have to use the outside one. As he passed the servants' hall, Simon came out. Seeing Jimmy, he raised the broom he was carrying. Jimmy's hand instinctively went to his crotch.

"Stay away from me," Simon warned.

"You're a fine one to talk. I may never have children because of you."

Simon looked at him in amazement, then burst out laughing when he saw Jimmy's mouth twitch up at the sides. Jimmy watched as he lowered the broom. _No matter how much I want to blame him for what happened with Thomas it won't help._ He had already admitted to himself earlier in the afternoon, as he should have long before, that Simon was an innocent bystander caught in something he couldn't be expected to comprehend and held responsible for events that never happened.

"Look, I know you were just trying to help Mr. Barrow. I never should have thought any different."

"I still don't understand some of the things you said. And what you did to Mr. Barrow in the bathroom, grabbing ..."

"Keep your voice down. Who's in the hall?"

"No one.

"Good. There are too many nosy people around here just itching for gossip to spread. You'll learn that very quickly. They feed on rumours and some just glory in other people's troubles." _He's got to keep his mouth shut. If O'Brien or Alfred or, Lord help me, Carson ever heard ..._ "You haven't told anyone have you?

"Who would I tell? The other hall boys barely speak to me, except to try to get me to do their work. I don't have enough nerve to talk to any of the maids. The other women just bark at me. Except Daisy; she's nice. That only leaves Mr. Carson and he scares me."

"Still, can you promise me you won't say anything."

"No."

"What? You can't ..."

"I'll promise Mr. Barrow, but not you."

_Fair enough._

"Thank you. I know Thom... Mr. Barrow will appreciate that. We've gotten over our little misunderstanding and he'll be relieved that you'll keep it quiet. As a matter of fact, maybe you can tell him yourself tomorrow. I'm sure he would like to hear it from you and not me."

Simon's eyes lit up as he smiled.

"Really? You think so?"

"I'm sure. I'll even find an excuse to let you take him his breakfast instead of me."

_Oh, Jimmy, you can be a real bastard when you want to be. I'll have to warn Thomas tonight._

"Now, I've got to get to the loo and back upstairs before I get in trouble. Good night."

"Good night, Mr. Kent."

Jimmy hurried out the back door, unbuttoning as he went, and finally breathing a sigh of relief as he stood in the toilet. _That went better than I expected. Now if he only keeps his word. Sending him to Thomas was a good idea. He definitely likes him and that will work in our favour._ He finished and buttoned up on the run. By the time he reached the saloon he knew he had been gone too long.

"Sorry, Alfred. Any trouble?"

"No. You're bloody lucky. But people are starting to leave and we'll be needed for the coats and the cars."

It took half an hour for the guests to drift away and aseveral minutes to gather the glasses they had left. Mr. Carson had drafted a couple of the hall boys for some of the chores. As he passed carrying a tray of glasses, Jimmy noticed Simon smile at him. He gave him a quick wink and moved on. _I really should feel bad about this, but I think we're all getting what we want. We get his silence and Simon gets to feel not so lonely because he thinks someone like Thomas cares. Maybe Thomas will care, but I'm not sure I do._

It was almost midnight when Jimmy knocked on Thomas's door.

"Come in, Jimmy."

"You knew it was me then."

"Other than Alfred sticking his head in yesterday, you're my only visitor so I figured it was a safe bet. You look tired."

Jimmy slumped into the armchair.

"That's because I am. It's been one hell of a day." _In more ways than one._

"Then I don't want you to stay." _I do, though, because I've been looking forward to this._ "You should go to bed. I can see you for a while in the morning when you bring breakfast and the we can have more time tomorrow night if you like. It's Saturday so things should be quiet."

"Simon will be bringing your breakfast, not me." He saw Thomas frown. "I would, but it's just a way to keep him quiet about today. I thought you might spare a few minutes to talk to him. You seem to have made a conquest."

"What do you mean?" Thomas bristled.

"No, not like that. He promised to keep quiet for you. You just need to make him think you appreciate that."

"Well, I do. No need to make him think anything. But you know that he wants to be friends, right. I can tell. It will never happen, not between a hall boy and an under butler. He's bloody young enough to be my son. "

"Still, you can take an interest. Wouldn't do any harm. Just a word now and then."

"Did that punch to your head cause some type of damage? Where did this sudden concern come from?"

"Self-preservation. Or would you rather leave this all to chance and have him blab when he realises you don't give a shit."

"Fine. Point taken." Thomas realised that encouraging Simon without leading him on might be a problem, but at the same time for some reason he really did feel sorry for him and if he was careful it wouldn't do any harm.

Jimmy yawned and stretched.

"So, you really don't mind if I go to bed?"

"No. Except you promised me a surprise."

_Fuck. I forgot. Couldn't do it now anyway._

"I thought it was too late, since it will take a while, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow. Sorry."

"Never mind. Something to look forward to."

Jimmy stood up and walked to the bed.

"Thanks. You'll enjoy it. I promise." Before he realised it he had reached over and pushed back Thomas's hair where it had fallen onto his forehead. _Shit. Now what?_ "That's better. It was bothering me." _Weak, Kent, unbelievably weak._

"Well we can't have you bothered, can we?"

" 'Night, Thomas."

"Good night, Jimmy."

Jimmy sighed as he walked to his room. _I'll never get the lid back on that box now. I don't know if I'm ready to find out what's inside, but it's too late._

  



	6. Chapter 6

Thomas woke to the sound of one of the hall boys knocking on doors to start off the day. _That's Simon. Lowest gets the shit jobs. Up before everyone else._ He sat up and stretched cautiously. Surprisingly he felt not too bad. He figured it was because he had the first good night's sleep since the beating. No tossing or turning as far as he could tell since he didn't remember being awakened by the pain. _If this keeps up I'll be back to work in no time. Of course I haven't tried to get up yet. Seems that's where it goes wrong._

Reaching for a cigarette, he lit it and sat smoking as he ran through what had happened yesterday. Jimmy had changed somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He was more relaxed, not as jittery, around him. Putting aside the still-disconcerting displays of anger about Simon. _He intentionally touched me last night. Not like in the bathroom or when he helped me get dressed._ As he thought about it, he could still feel Jimmy's fingers brushing his forehead as he pushed back his hair. _Did they linger? Is that it? No, just my imagination._ It was a small gesture, but an important one.

When he had asked Jimmy if they could be friends, he wasn't sure what to expect. That he agreed came as a welcome surprise. It was only later that night as he lay awake that he had time to think about it. _He said he thought he could manage it._ It was almost begrudging; as if the only reason he was doing it was because Thomas had taken the beating that was rightfully due him. As much as he wanted Jimmy to be his friend, at that point it seemed a hollow victory, doomed because only Thomas cared.

Nothing had happened in the few days following that to change his mind. Jimmy would drop by to spend a few minutes, read the paper, talk a bit about the goings on, but it all seemed forced. _Or maybe I just thought it was. Maybe I didn't think I deserved him as a friend and was seeing what I expected._ Thomas shook his head, hoping that would clear the confusion. _Christ, I'm a pathetic bastard. This isn't getting me anywhere. I need to concentrate on last night. There **was** something different._

He ground out the cigarette in the ashtray on his lap then set it aside on the night stand. Pushing himself off the bed, he stood for a moment before making his was to his armchair. Although walking was still difficult, it wasn't as painful as it had been. His ribs still ached with the movement, but he was sure they weren't as bad either. _Good thing. Maybe I can move around more now. Get out into the hallway just to walk up and down - have to watch out for that bloody floorboard – so I can get my legs back._ Just as he sat down, there was a knock at the door and it opened slightly.

"Mr. Barrow, can I come in?"

"Yes, Simon." _Well at least this time he asked._

He carried the breakfast tray into the room.

"This is early." He glanced at the clock. "Breakfast isn't for another hour."

"Mr. Kent said Mrs. Patmore got it ready first. I think she was still mad about it being missed yesterday."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to send you away."

Simon crossed the room and handed it to him. _Hmm, extra toast. And preserves? We never get those. Unless I pinch them, of course. I must treat her better._

"Thanks."

He saw Simon hesitate.

"Are you in hurry?"

"I should go. I'll catch it if I don't get started on the work."

"Five minutes, then. Remember what I said yesterday. If there's a problem send them to me." _Fine, so now what if he stays? What on earth will we talk about?_ He was surprised when Simon spoke first.

"Why are you doing this?" Simon had been thinking about this ever since his conversation with Mr. Kent the night before.

Thomas looked up from his toast, spoon of preserves hovering over it.

"Pardon?"

"I ... I'm not stupid, Mr. Barrow. I know how things work. I'm a hall boy. You've probably never thought to talk someone like me in years except to give an order. Wouldn't spare the time, I'll bet."

Thomas wasn't sure how to answer that because it was basically true. He was also amazed that Simon would be so bold as to even say it to someone in his position. But it wasn't the first time he had said something unexpected.

"I thought so. It was a useless question because I know why. You want me to keep quiet about you and Mr. Kent. I already told him I would."

"Fine. But why? What's in it for you?"

"Do I have to want something?"

_I probably would._

"You're the only person who's had a kind word for me since I got here. Yesterday, you talked to me, not at me. I just want to repay the favour."

"And that's all?"

"I'm pretty sure there's nothing more I can expect, aren't you?" _No matter how I wish there was._

_Jesus, how old is this boy? To look at him I didn't expect he could put two words together, but he has no problem just telling me what he thinks. Kind? Never thought I'd hear anything about me and kind in the same sentence._ Thomas shivered. _Too much like how Lady Sybil made me feel._

"You should finish your breakfast before your tea gets cold. I have to go anyway."

As Simon reached the door, Thomas stopped him.

"Wait a minute. Your pretty outspoken when you want to be. It's something you should be careful with, though. Most people will think you're getting above your place." He saw Simon's face drop. "I'm not angry. It's just a word of advice."

He hesitated. _I've got what I want from him, what more is there? Maybe it's because I've finally learned that it shouldn't always be about what I want. The kiss with Jimmy taught me that._

"I know what you would like. Friends, right? It can't be. You know that as well as I do."

"Yes, Mr. Barrow. I told you I know how things work."

Thomas noticed his return to formalness and the disappointment in his voice. _All he needs is some encouragement. Wouldn't have minded that myself when I was his age._

"I can't promise anything, but maybe I could act as a mentor." _How the hell do you mentor a hall boy?_ "I'll mention it to Mr. Carson." _Mr. Carson, I have an idea ... just an experiment ... things will run more smoothly ... we both know about homesickness and how it affects ... we'll know about other problems sooner ... look to the future ... His Lordship thinks that's important ... I`d like to start with the newest boy ... do it on my own time if you like ... more bullshit as needed. Nonsense of course, but I've sold nonsense before._ Thomas could sense the birth of a plan. _Hope it doesn't go the way of most of my plans. Maybe it'll work because it's not about me._

"You would do that?"

"I can try. It's not friends. You have to realise that. We won't be going to the pub."

Thomas thought the Simon's grin would split his face.

"Doesn't matter. It's close enough for me, Mr. Barrow. Besides, I'm too young to drink."

Thomas laughed.

"Away with you before I start to reconsider."

Thomas was still smiling after Simon had closed the door. _So this is what a good deed feels like._ He returned to his breakfast, savouring the treat from Mrs. Patmore and the fact that he had a pot of tea and not just a cup. When he finished he set the tray on the small table beside him, then glanced around the room for something to do. _Damn, the newspaper is yesterday's and I've already read it front to back three times. I should have asked Simon to see if someone could get me a book from His Lordship's library._ He got up and went to his dresser to look in the mirror. _Maybe I can get that shave at some point today. I'll have to watch out for those scabs._

The knock at the door made him jump slightly. Jimmy leaned into the room.

"I saw Simon downstairs. Given the smile I got I assume it went well."

"Well enough. I'll tell you what I'm planning later."

"That's sounds ominous. Should I worry?"

"No. It's good. Oh, by the way, do you think you can snag me one of today's newspapers. Anything but the Sketch."

"Upstairs should be finished with them in about an hour. I'll collect them and give you a choice."

"Thanks."

After Jimmy left, Thomas was still at a loss for something to do. He puttered around straightening his dresser top, which took all of two minutes, before deciding he needed another cigarette. Lighting it, he settled back into the armchair. _There's still this question of Jimmy. Oh well, as my Mum used to say: All things come to those who wait. There'll be an answer at some point, but it won't come from me._ He stared at the glowing tip of the cigarette for a moment before crushing it out in the ashtray. Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes. _I really should get up and go for a bit of a walk._

The sound of the door opening woke him.

"Sorry. I didn't know you were asleep." Jimmy stood in the doorway, newspapers tucked under his arm and towels in his hand.

"It's alright, come in."

He picked up something from the hall floor.

"A kettle? What's that for?"

"It's hot water for your shave."

"You didn't have to do that. I can make it to the bathroom."

"You don't understand. I'm going to give you the shave."

"But Mr. Carson ..."

"I asked him and he gave me permission to take the time."

"Really?"

"Well, I did ask when Mrs. Hughes was there and you know she has a soft spot for you now. So ..."

"Ah."

He took off his livery jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Crossing to the washstand, he poured water from the kettle into the bowl then mixed in some cold water from the pitcher. He picked up Thomas's razor from the dresser and started to strop it.

"Uh... I don't know about this. Do you even know how? I mean, do you even shave?"

Jimmy stopped and held the razor up to the light.

"You know, it's not a good idea to insult someone who's holding a razor." He walked towards Thomas, grabbed his hand and held his fingers to face. "Here, feel. I shaved this morning. Stubble already. It's because I'm blond; you just don't see it. Not like yours."

Thomas hesitated before running his fingers lightly along his jaw to his chin. _Jesus. What am I doing?_ He quickly pulled his hand away.

"Um ... Yes. Okay. But ... but still. It's not like shaving someone else."

Jimmy went back to the washstand and busied himself with the shaving mug and brush.

"After the war when my Uncle was sick for the year or so before he died, I used to shave him. Since it wasn't far Lady Anstruther would let me go there every few days. Did I ever tell you how nice she was. No, of course not. How would I? Anyway, I think I can manage without loping off your earlobe. You should sit in the wooden chair though and we'll take your undershirt off."

Jimmy tested the water then added a bit more from the kettle before soaking a small towel in it and wringing it out. When he turned he saw Thomas was in the chair and had managed to get out of his undershirt.

"Lean back. This is going to be hot." As he wrapped the towel around Thomas's face, he felt him tense. "Too hot?"

"No." Thomas's voice was muffled by the towel. "Just a bit of a surprise despite the warning. You don't have to do this, you know."

"But what if I want to." He took the towel from Thomas's face, twirled the brush in its bowl and began to lather Thomas's throat and chin.

"The cuts ..."

"I'll be careful." With his thumb he gently wiped the soap away from the scabs around his lips and the large one just below his chin. He tilted Thomas's head back a little further and for a few seconds they were staring into each other's eyes.

Thomas sighed. _I could lose myself in those._ He panicked and tried to sit up. _I can't do this. It fucking hurts too much._

"What's wrong."

"This isn't a good idea."

"Why?"

"Fuck, Jimmy, you know why." The words echoed what he had said only a few days ago. _Nothing's changed. I can't be just friends with him. I'm just fooling myself._ He started to get up, but Jimmy's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Do you think I don't know you're settling for friends? Give me some credit."

"Fine. But I didn't realise how difficult it would be. I didn't bargain on you touching me or you being this close" His voice broke. "I was too dense to see it. I didn’t bargain on any of this."

_You're not the only one._

"Not even long enough for me to shave you? I didn't think you were that weak-willed."

"So now you know I am. Happy?"

"Why would I be happy?" He gave Thomas's shoulder a light squeeze. "This is making you miserable. What makes you think that would make me happy? Maybe at one time, but not now. I've hurt you enough. More than I ever should have." He felt Thomas relax. "If not being friends will make up for it then I'll l do that if it's what you want. But you know it isn't. Maybe it's just too soon for anything other than talking."

Letting go of Thomas's shoulder he turned to put the shaving things back on the dresser, then stood for a moment, facing away. Meanwhile Thomas got up and wiped the shaving lather from his face.

"Are you in love with me? Is that it?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Does it really matter?"

When Jimmy swung around the look of anger caused Thomas to back away clumsily.

"What's wrong with you? Does love mean so little to you that you can dismiss it like that?"

"No. It doesn't matter because I'm tired of love always being one-sided. Sometimes I know it didn't start out that way and I did something to kill it; sometimes it's obvious from the start and I blunder on anyway until I'm too far gone to care. I never learn, always hoping that the next time will be different."

He sat down on his bed.

"I'm tired of it, Jimmy," he repeated. "I'm finally tired of living in hope when everything tells me there is none." He buried his face in his hands. "So, yes, I'm in love with you. Surely you aren't that blind. But it doesn't fucking matter."

Jimmy knelt in front of him and took his hands.

"Don't pull away. Look at me." When Thomas raised his head he could see Jimmy's eyes were shining with tears. " Don't give up hope. Not yet. Promise me."

"I don't see what difference ..."

"Promise me. If you love me like you say you do."

The desperation in Jimmy's voice surprised him.

"Hope will live on," he said giving him a weak smile. _No matter how wasted it is._

"Good." He stood up. "That hair once again." He brushed it back from his forehead." You better start back using pomade."

Jimmy picked up the kettle and went to the door. _I need to tell him. But tell him what? How would I ever explain it to him, when I can't explain it to myself? You can't go from thinking you detest someone to being his friend to ... This doesn't happen. I need more time. More time because I'm a bloody coward._

"I'll leave the extra towels so you can use them when you shave yourself."

Thomas nodded.

"You know, Thomas, you don't realise that I need someone just as much as you do. At least that's not one-sided."

He had gone before Thomas could think to ask what he meant.


	7. Chapter 7

Jimmy met Alfred in the hallway on the way to the kitchen.

"You finished that fast," Alfred said, indicating the kettle.

"I didn't manage it." Seeing Alfred's puzzled look, he continued. "He wasn't feeling well so we left it." _Alfred doesn't need to know the truth._

"Still don't see why you wanted to anyway."

"No, I don't suppose you would. What happened to the Alfred who was so anxious to help him at the fair?"

"Well, he was hurt and it only seemed right."

"My point exactly." _You nitwit._

Alfred walked on to the servants' hall while Jimmy dropped off the kettle in the kitchen before joining him. He sat staring into space, trying to make sense of what was happening to him ... _Why do I think that more time will solve anything? I already told him I need someone. Why can't that be someone who loves me? I've never had anyone say that, but there's so much about this that scares me. Why does he love me? I don't know if I could ever love him and I'm sure now that's what he wants. That's all he's ever wanted. But a few days ago I had no reason to think I would ever be jealous either. How can things seem to change so fast? And his hair. I just had to touch his hair. Twice. Why would I do that? This last year has been about trying to stay as far away from him as possible because what he did disgusted me. At least I think that was the reason. Then why am I so desperate that he not give up hope. He deserves better than just hope. We both deserve better than that. I just don't want to get hurt. Or to hurt him. Listen to me. A week ago I wouldn't have cared. Would I? This is so fucking confusing I can't deal with it by myself_ ... and failing.

"Jimmy!"

"Sorry, I was miles away."

"I said you're awfully quiet."

"Hmm. Today's your half day, right?"

Alfred nodded.

"Got anything planned?"

"I thought I'd go into the village. Other than that, not much"

"Would you switch with me?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"You just said you didn't have much to do."

"Why should I switch though?"

Jimmy thought for a moment.

"Well, I could make it worth your while. No luck with Ivy yet, right?"

He merely shrugged.

"Thought not. She's still hanging on me like moss on a stone."

Alfred glared at him. _It's more like flies around shit._ Realising he was talking about Ivy, he shuddered slightly at his unfortunate choice of words.

"So I noticed. I also noticed you don't do much to discourage her."

"Well, I could you know. Even talk you up. I just need a good reason."

"And that would be as simple as me switching half days?" _I definitely got the shit part right._ "Okay, fine, but you bloody well better do what you say."

"She'll be chasing after you in no time."

"Right." _I'm not that stupid, but still ..._

"I'll tell Mr. Carson about the change."

Jimmy climbed the stairs in search of Mr. Carson. _Like fish in a barrel. Glad he didn't ask why though._

After luncheon had been served upstairs and he had eaten his own meal, Jimmy sought out Mrs. Patmore.

"Can I ask a favour."

She scowled at him.

"Now, why would I do you a favour? You should be doing me a favour by staying away from Ivy and Daisy."

"Well, it's more for Mr. Barrow."

"Oh. How is he today?"

"Not too good and he's a bit down. So I thought I'd try to cheer him up."

"You? Really. My, things have changed."

Jimmy ignored the barb.

"Yes. I'm going to spend my half day with him and I thought maybe you might find something special for us ... him to eat. You know, to make him feel better. Because he's injured. And low."

"No need to lay it on so thick." She thought for a moment. "I'll share out some of today's luncheon for the family. They didn't eat much anyway so there's plenty. It won't need heating or much preparing."

"Thank you. And pudding?"

"Yes, yes. Pudding too." She saw Jimmy hesitate. "And there'll be more than enough of everything for you both."

She stopped him as he turned to leave.

"Mr. Carson says that the Bordeaux that just arrived would have complimented the luncheon nicely."

"Pardon?"

"I'm just repeating what he said."

_She can't be suggesting ... No. I don't think any of His Lordship's wines. Carson's after my ass as it is. If he ever caught me ... I'll have enough time to go to the village to pick something up before we eat. And a pint or two at the pub. Just to settle my nerves._

Jimmy's trip to the village didn't quite go as he intended. Despite his claim that he could always get money, somehow his winnings at the fair had dwindled to almost nothing. As he made his way down the road he couldn't help laughing to himself. _I really must try to be a more responsible drunk._ So instead of wine and a stop at the pub, he bought the cheapest bottle of scotch he could find - _I wonder if Thomas likes scotch_ \- and by taking the long way back to Downton so he wouldn't be seen, he found a spot to open it

He sat on an old tree stump just off the forest path, staring into the open neck of the bottle before taking a long swig. The burning at the back of his throat felt good. Fishing the package of cigarettes he bought for Thomas out of his pocket, he lit one. He had given up smoking just after the war. Back then he had developed a cough and the sound he made reminded him of a gas attack and of Steve Crewson who had somehow lost his mask in the confusion; Steve who he had known for years, from before the war. He tilted his head back and took another drink.

_I've been running since the war. No. I've been running for much longer than that. Always thinking that the next place, the new people, would make me happy. That if I bought enough drinks for strangers they would be friends. That if I flirted with that maid I would feel better about myself. That maybe something - someone - would come along and help me figure out just why I'm running._ He swallowed another mouthful of scotch. _Maybe this is the chance to find out. Or maybe just a reason to start running again._ One more quick gulp and he capped the bottle as he got up.

By the time he reached Downton he was unsteady on his feet. _Maybe that wasn't such a good idea._ He leaned against the side of the house to balance himself before pushing open the servants' door - and missing the step down. Luckily he caught himself before he - and his bottle - ended up on the hall floor.

"Mr. Kent?"

"Si... Simon, my boy. Good to see you."

"Are you alright?"

"Couldn't be better."

Simon eyed him suspiciously. _He reeks._ He knew the smell only too well.

"Mrs. Patmore was looking for you. Something about dinner for Mr. Barrow being almost ready."

_It can't be that time already. I wasn't gone that long._

"Thank you. I'll get it."

"Uh, Mr. Kent. Do you think that's a good idea?" He nodded to the bottle that Jimmy clutched to his side.

Jimmy looked down.

"Oh - _urp_ 'scuse me - right. I'll just go to my room first."

Simon shook his head. _You may get to your room, but you'll break your stupid neck if you try to come back down. Besides I can just imagine Mr. Carson when he sees you in that state._

"Would you like me to bring it to him? I'll just say I couldn't find you."

"No. I can manage." He turned toward the stairs and immediately ran his shoulder into the door jamb.

Simon almost laughed. _I should just let him go and make an ass of himself, but Mr. Barrow won't like it if he gets into trouble._ Foolishly he threw caution to the wind.

"Mr. Kent, you're drunk. You can hardly carry yourself let alone a tray."

"You're a mouthy little bugger, aren't you."

"That doesn't make you any less drunk." _Right. Why not prove what he said._

Jimmy made an awkward lunge at him, forgetting about the bottle he had now tucked under his arm, Simon spotted it fall and leapt to grab it before it hit the floor, striking Jimmy in the chest with his shoulder and sending him sprawling backward into the stairwell just as Mrs. Hughes rounded the corner.

"James! Simon! What on earth ..." She looked at the bottle in Simon's hand. "Is it safe to assume that's not yours?"

By this time Jimmy was on his feet, swaying slightly.

"It's mine."

"Indeed." She wrinkled her nose at him. "What has gotten into you. First, at the fair - yes, I know about that - and now this?" She shook her head. "You need to watch yourself, James."

Jimmy nodded.

"Go up to your room before Mr. Carson sees you."

"I'm on my own time, you know."

"Yes, but you're making a spectacle of yourself in this house. And even worse it's at a time like this. Now go."

"But ... but Thomas's dinner."

Mrs. Hughes didn't fail to notice that he called him Thomas and not Mr. Barrow.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. You can't take it in your condition and Alfred's too busy." She nodded to Simon. "Go get the tray from Mrs. Patmore. Tell her I asked you to take it since Mr. Kent is ... indisposed."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes." He handed the bottle to Jimmy and left.

"Why are you still here, James?" Her tone softened. "I'm really only asking you for your own good."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes. I know. It's just ..." His voice trailed off. _It's just what? What can I say? That I got drunk because I'm scared? She'll only ask what of. And I don't have an answer for that. Not one I understand anyway._ "Thank you."

Mrs. Hughes watched him climb the first few steps, holding tightly to the handrail. _I think I can guess exactly where he'll end up. That boy is troubled. I hope Thomas knows what he's in for._

When Jimmy reached the servants' quarters he started towards his room, but turned and went to Thomas's instead. He pushed through the door without knocking, leaving it open.

"What the ..." Thomas jolted upright in bed, wincing at the pain it caused.

"Just me." He sat in the armchair, setting the bottle at his feet before reaching into his pocket for the cigarettes and tossing them to Thomas. "Brought you these. Figured you might need them."

"And the bottle?"

"Figured it was me who needed that." He reached down, opened it and took a drink before holding it out to Thomas. "Want some?"

"Sure. Why not." He took it but hesitated before putting it to his lips. "A glass?"

"Oh, I think you can manage."

Thomas laughed at hearing his own words and took a sip before handing it back.

"What's the occasion?" he asked before lighting a cigarette.

"It's my half day. I don't need an occasion."

"No. What's the occasion that brings you here. I mean, after earlier today. It didn't exactly end well."

Jimmy just stared at him.

"You shaved."

"Yes, I also managed that."

"Good, good."

"So. The occasion?"

Jimmy went to take another drink, but thought better of it, capping the bottle and setting it down.

"Why do you love me?" Despite - or perhaps because of - the amount of scotch he had drunk his mind was surprisingly clear.

"You've been drinking. Maybe now's not a good time."

"But you can't deny it. You told me you did. I got it all wrong, you know. I'm so bloody blind that I really didn't see it until today. That's what this has been about. The touching, the kiss, taking my side if someone says something against me, the beating. All of that. It's not just sex, is it? You think you love me, but you've never said why. Why me?"

"You really want me to explain love? I can't. I knew from the first minute I saw you. "Who ever loved that loved not at first sight." I don't know why, I just do."

"But you do love me."

"Jesus Christ, Jimmy, what did I just say? Why are you doing this? Do you really want to hurt me? Punish me by making me admit **again** , out loud **again** , that I can't have what I want most. Yes. I love you. So much that I'll gladly take whatever little you can give me in return." He looked down at his hands which were clenched in fists. "Why did you ask me not to give up hope? What the hell is there to hope for? That maybe someday, when you find there's nothing better, you might pretend to love me back? You can't give me what I want. Remember?"

"That's the point, Thomas, I finally understand what you want and I ... I don't know if I would be pretending. I don't know anything anymore." For some reason he suddenly thought about Jason again. _Not the right one_. "I need you to help me."

"Mr. Barrow?"

Jimmy jumped, knocking over the bottle at his feet. Thomas's head jerked up to find Simon standing in the doorway with a tray. _Not again. You have the worst timing._

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?" Quoted in _As You Like It_ , the line is from Philip Marlowe's poem "Hero and Leander"


	8. Chapter 8

  
Simon readied himself for the inevitable confrontation when Jimmy stood up, but when he spoke there was no anger in his voice

"How long have you been there listening in?"

"Not long. No, I mean I wasn't listening. I mean I haven't been here long." _Shit_.

"Still. What did you hear?"

"Nothing." _Something_ "Just you said you needed Mr. Barrow's help." _And that you wouldn't be pretending to love him._

"Fine. But you shouldn't eavesdrop."

"Jimmy," Thomas laughed. "To be fair, the door was open. Besides we're servants, we always eavesdrop." He nodded his head toward the small table by the armchair. "Thank you, Simon. You can put the tray there."

Simon carefully skirted Jimmy just in case and set the tray down, then stepped back a few paces.

Thomas glanced at it. "It seems Mrs. Patmore has outdone herself."

"My idea," Jimmy mumbled as he sat down. "Wanted something special for us tonight."

They both seemed to have forgotten that Simon was still there until he turned to leave.

"Simon, close the door behind you."

"Yes, Mr. Barrow."

Simon stood in the hall for a moment, mind racing. _Is that why Mr. Kent seems to get mad at me when I'm near Mr. Barrow? He's jealous? Bum boy? I guessed what that meant, but now it makes sense after what I heard that jerk Smitty say about Mr. Barrow and a candle. I should have punched him in the face._ He leant against the wall. _Why do I feel like I'm going to cry? It has nothing to do with me. I don't care. Now, that's a lie._ He wiped at his nose with his sleeve. _But they were talking about love, not bums or candles or anything else. I shouldn't have listened for as long as I did, but I heard them as I came down the hall and I wanted ... want them ... him ... Ah, fuck. What do I want?_ He rubbed at his nose again. _Two men can't be in love. But then how do I know that? Maybe that's what Mr. Kent needs help with. He doesn't know either._ Simon pushed himself away from the wall and walked toward the stairs. _Someday I'll ask Mr. Barrow. Right, sure I will._

"Do you think he heard more than he said."

"Maybe." Thomas shrugged. "I don't think we need to worry about him. I'll find a way to talk to him eventually." He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Right now, he isn't the problem. You are."

Jimmy got out of the chair to help him up, but Thomas just waved him away.

"I can manage, but I'd like the armchair."

They switched positions and Jimmy sat on the edge of the bed, twisting at the sheets he clutched in his hands. Thomas reached down slowly and picked up the bottle. Opening it, he took a drink and held it out to Jimmy who just shook his head. Thomas put the bottle on the table and leant back, closing his eyes for a moment before staring intently at Jimmy.

"So, let me get this straight. A few days ago you couldn't give me what I wanted, but you didn't know what that was. If you didn't know, how did you know you couldn't give it?" He saw that Jimmy was going to answer. "No, wait. Let me finish. It's because you thought all I wanted was to bugger you or something, right?."

Jimmy nodded.

"That's not your fault though, is it? Some weird man sneaks into your room at night and kisses you in your sleep. It doesn't speak well of his intentions. A mistake easy to make on your part. But what is your fault is that you never gave me a chance to apologise. You turned your back on me every time I attempted a conversation that had nothing to do with work. You sneered at me and insulted me every opportunity you got. Even Alfred who called the police - yes, I know about that because he told me - came around, but not you. Not even enough to give me a chance. I eventually just gave up. But you know what, Jimmy, I never stopped loving you. And now because you realise that, you think you **might** be able to love me. Of course, you're not sure, are you?

"No, I ..."

Thomas interrupted, refusing to let him speak

"No, you're not. And you think that I should be the one to help you because ... Why exactly?"

Jimmy glared at him. He didn't appreciate being treated like he didn't deserve to be heard, being ignored and silenced when all he was trying to do was ... _Ah, some of my own medicine. Right._

"Fine. I get it. I acted like an asshole. But you threatened me." He held up his hand when Thomas tried to answer. "No, now it's my turn. I don't mean physically. You - who you are, what you are - threatened me. Threatened who I thought I was. By not having to deal with you, I didn't have to deal with that either. Then you go and get yourself beat up. And you tell me you're not asking for what you want. Well, you know what I thought that was. Instead friendship is fine. And then Simon and you ... I know that I read that wrong." He laughed. "More mistakes about what you want. I just can't seem to get away from them. But the point is no matter whether I was wrong or not it set something off here and here." He touched his head, then his chest. "And that threatened me too." He sighed. "I'm tired of being afraid."

He eyed the bottle. "Pass me that." He took a drink and set it between his legs on the bed, turning it round and round as he stared at it.

"I want your help, because I'm tired of being afraid."

"And what if my help leads to your finding out you are precisely what frightens you. Are you ready for that?"

"Do you really think I would be sitting here if I weren't? Or that I didn't think maybe I was?"

Thomas eased up out of the chair and went to sit beside him, removing the bottle and setting it on the floor before taking his hand. Jimmy tensed but didn't pull away. The fingers of his free hand toyed with the nape of his neck. Jimmy shuddered slightly as he sank into him - _I really shouldn't be afraid. He'd never hurt me._ Thomas's hand moved to his hair, stroking it in the same way he would calm a child.

"We do this how you want. Every step of the way. If I'm rushing you, tell me. I can wait." _I would wait for you forever._ He kissed him on the forehead. "Why don't we eat and then we'll see." He stood up, but Jimmy kept hold of his hand. "Not yet. Just sit here with me a while longer." _No more mistakes. This is how it's meant to be._

~~ End ~~


End file.
